The Confederate States Of America
by NarwhalOfDoom
Summary: There is a girl, who leads one of the bitterest and lonliest existences possible. She is not known to any but her most hated rival. This girl is the Confederate States of America, and to this day, she is alive. Rated T for slight language, and brief racism on the Confederacy's part. Just a short little story. No pairings or any of that, just a little drabble.


Underneath America's house, there was a cellar. This particular cellar had crumbling cinder block walls, grains of concrete falling off at the slightest touch. The floor was filthy, cracked tile, with unseen mice scuttling across it frequently. Spiderwebs were draped from the ceiling, their inhabitants delicately crawling across the thin silks. Strangely enough, the door wasn't dusty or covered in webs. At first glance, in the darkness, the cellar seemed empty. The only sounds were the steady occasional drips of stale, dirty water.  
But sometime in the afternoon each day, the heavy door would open. Light would stream in, dimly illuminating the damp room. A faint, rasping cough was heard this particular day. A blonde man with uncharacteristically cold blue eyes scowled fiercely at the far corner of the room, where the sound had originated. "Here's your food." America slid a tray with a meager portion of stale chips, a sandwich, and a bottle of water across the room.  
The food quickly disappeared into the stomach of a girl sitting in the corner. She was extremely gaunt, with matted, sandy blonde hair, and ragged garments, faded from years of wear. "Slide the tray back. I don't want to get near you," the taller man spat. A rasping laugh echoed through the room.  
"You really do despise me, don't you," she jested, her voice drawling in a Southern American accent. It might have been endearing if affecting a clearer, sweeter voice. Hers was cold and unforgiving. The woman, appearing about the age of twenty, looked up at America, and in the dim light, her blue eyes glinted evilly.  
He narrowed his eyes. "You're not worth my time. You're not worth anything."  
She laughed again, a cold, unforgiving sound. "But it looks like I am, sweetheart. My people still believe in the South."  
"You shut up! They're not your people! They're Americans, not Confederates!"  
The girl smirked, satisfied with achieving his anger. "Then explain why the Confederate flag is still flown, sugar. Explain why southerners still proclaim Confederate pride." America was seething with rage. She was still alive even after the Civil War, and he hated it.  
"It doesn't matter! The Confederate States of America doesn't exist anymore!"  
The Confederacy winced slightly, but soon regained her maliciously teasing attitude. "But I'm still alive. And you can't find it in your precious little heart to let me die, can you?" He said nothing, only scowled, and she smirked. "It shows how weak you are. You could have been so much stronger if you had just done what I asked. Those niggers ain't–"  
"Shut up! They have the same rights that we do! They're one million times better than heartless things like you!" His interruption was yelled with every ounce of rage he could muster.  
She narrowed her eyes. "They're worthless, you idiot. Now, what I was sayin' before you so kindly interrupted me, was that you hate me. It's funny how that works. Because hun, I got news for you." Her tone grew fierce. "Like I want to hear it," he muttered, scowling. Her smirk grew more self-satisfied.  
"Of course you do. You're curious. Hungry for power; that you could eliminate any weakness I've found." He said nothing, and she knew she was either correct, or she had hit a weak point.  
"Honey, you hate me because you can't stand a rival so close to you. You want all the glory. This 'justice an' equality' you talk about is a front. You want people to at least think you're good, even if you are stupid. You see yourself in me. That's why you hate me. You don't want to be reminded of how cruel you are. An' you can't get rid of me. As long as southerners fly my flag an' talk about the Confederacy, I'll be alive. Even as long as the southern states exist, I'll be alive. Hell, as long as you're alive, I'll be alive!" She laughed mirthlessly again. "Because guess what? I'm part of you. I am you," she finished dramatically.  
America stood brooding in the doorway, reflecting on her words. Maybe they were true. He didn't know himself what accuracy they held. They made him doubt himself. His values. His relationships. Were they really his own? Or were they lies he told himself? No. She was just saying that to get to him. He tried to block out any more doubts.  
The silence lasted for a few minutes before she spoke again. "I'm right, ain't I." It wasn't spoken as a question, but a statement; an undertone of smugness in her voice. He said nothing for a minute after that.  
His voice was hardened and stoic as he uttered the next sentence, venom dripping from every syllable. "You're wrong. I'll never be like you." With this, he shut the door, condemning the room to blackness again.  
The blonde in the corner smirked as she listened to his footsteps fade away. He was lying. America was covering up how he knew she was right. She knew him better than he knew himself.  
It might not be today, but one day she would win. The Confederate States of America would rise again. And then he would be the one in the cellar, skinny and covered in dirt. Or she could shoot him in the head, as a more permanent solution. She wasn't quite as soft as he was. Yes, a bullet drilling a hole in his skull would do very nicely. Oh, how the woman on the floor relished the thought.

But for now, she would continue to break down his resolve. It was only a matter of time.

(A/N) This has been floating around my head for quite a while, and I decided, why not? I always thought that if there was a Confederacy personification, they would still be alive, for the reasons that the Confederacy listed in the chapter. I also thought America would try to hide their existence from everyone, so in the story, only America knows about her. I always thought the concept of a Confederacy personification was interesting, one reason being that I am a southern girl myself. Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Please, no flames; but constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
